Sandra Tayler's Blog, page 127

On the couch

At 2 o'clock in the afternoon on a sunny winter day, my front room is full of light. The low angle of the sun in the sky allows it to sneak under the rim of the porch and shine directly through the arched window. This is where I hung the solar powered rainbow maker that I got for my birthday. The sun falls directly on the couch and refracted rainbows dance around the room as the crystals spin.

By noon the day felt like a wasteland of things not done. I'd crashed back to sleep after getting the kids off to school instead of doing the pre-tax accounting which was supposed to be my first priority for the day. Three hours later I dragged myself out of bed to discover the day half gone and myself lacking any sort of motivational energy. I puttered away the last two hours until time to retrieve the kids from school, then washed up on the couch to sit in the sunshine and watch rainbows slide across my walls.

The rainbows moved in rhythmic patterns on the walls. One comet shaped rainbow raced across the ceiling then slowed and paused. A second comet raced up to join it then both reversed course to vanish across the room. I watched them appear and disappear, also marking the patterns of a dozen other rainbows across the ceiling, floor, and walls. It was soothing and contemplative. My fretfulness about lack of productivity faded and my mind drifted.

Patch wandered into the room, saw me, and settled on the couch beside me. We talked a little about school and friends. He expressed his sadness about a friend who moved out of our cul de sac this week. She's been in his life as long as he can remember and he'll miss her. We talked together until we saw another friend through the front window and he ran off to play. Gleek dashed through the room several times on various errands pertinent to playing out doors in the winter sunshine. Her bright colored knee socks flashed cheerfully as she went past. Once she stopped to talk to me for a minute about school and the game she was playing outdoors. Kiki wandered into the room and sat down next to me, snuggled on my shoulder. We sat in silence, absorbing sunshine and watching rainbows together until her math tutor arrived.

The sun moved onward until the sunlight no longer shone directly on the couch. The crystals fell into shadow making the rainbows vanish. by that time, I was gone too. The need to supply dinner had drawn me from my repose. Strange that an afternoon of sitting and drifting can change a day from wasted to lovely. I'm glad it worked. I'm glad, not only for the rainbows, but for the little flashes of my children's lives that I was able to observe by sitting still and quiet.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Good busy day

Between on placement test last Saturday, another coming up this Saturday, Link's class selection meeting next week, and talking with three neighbors about their kids' educations, my brain is much full of kid stuff.

It is also fighting off the illness which has run rampant through our family in the last week. The day has been good, but my writing brain abdicated for the day. I hope it will be back tomorrow.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Tests and fears

"I'm scared." said Gleek. This was not news to me. I'd witnessed her last-minute frantic scramble to find a specific small stuffed animal to tuck in her pocket.

"Sometimes it helps if you list out exactly what you are scared about."

"I'm scared about going to a new school. I'm scared I won't make friends. I don't want to miss 5th and 6th grade at my school. I don't think I will like a different school. I'm worried that Bestfriend will leave me behind. What if I fail?"

We were in the car on the way for Gleek to take a test which could qualify her for the A.L.L. program.

A.L.L. stands for Accelerated Learning Lab. It is a gifted program where smart kids are pulled from several schools and put together in a single class. That class is then able to focus on high level learning. It used to only be available for 5th and 6th grade. Now kids can test into it for 3rd and 4th grade as well. Patch was going to test too, but he got sick.

"That's a lot of things to be scared about." I said in answer to Gleek's list. "Why don't we talk them through?"

"Okay." Gleek answered fiddling with the strap of her bag. The bag contained three books, five snacks, and a water bottle. Her stuffed cat was in her pocket.

"Most of those fears are about switching schools. We don't have to switch schools if you don't want to. We're just taking the test so that you have a choice."

Gleek nodded.

"The other ones, about failing and Bestfriend leaving you, those are about the test. Lets think about the worst it could get and then lets list what you can do to prevent the worst."

Gleek nodded again and we started to talk.

I have mixed feelings about the A.L.L. program. Kiki went through it and those two years were an emotional wringer for both of us. In hindsight, I think those two years were hard because of things that were inherent to Kiki and I. It probably is not fair to blame the A.L.L. program, but I still contemplate it with some aversion. Gleek has been having a good year, but three out of four years prior were varying degrees of hard. We want more options. Having her take the test might give us an option.

"We're going to be late." Gleek said looking at the clock. "It's okay if we're too late and I don't get to test. I'll just play with Bestfriend after school. We'll make a schedule and I'll be sure to let her pick more of the games."

I looked at the clock too. The trip had taken longer than anticipated because I was driving in unfamiliar territory. Also, we'd spent precious minutes searching for a stuffed animal.

"Sounds like you're convinced that Bestfriend will pass the test."

"Yes."

We pulled up to the school and dozens of people were still walking into the building. We got inside and joined the crowd of people. Gleek stood close to me and pulled out the new book I'd bought for her. It shielded her from her own nervousness.

Time came for her to walk away from me and her chin quivered just a little bit. I wondered why I was putting us through this. It was a thought I revisited during the three hours I spent in a teacher's lounge with motion sensitive lights that turned off every 10 minutes unless I waved my arms or walked around the room. I got some writing done, also some worrying.

They had the parents line up along the walls so the kids could easily find them as they exited classrooms. Forty or fifty kids filed past me in clumps of various sizes. The crowd in the hallway began to thin out. I caught my first sight of Gleek, she was chattering away to another little girl. In three hours of testing and break times the two had become fast friends.

"Was that really three hours?" Gleek asked me, then kept talking without waiting for an answer. "It was easy. I thought it would be hard, but it was just like regular work. I want to go to L School. That's where NewFriend is going and then we could be in the same class. I didn't like the timed test. I could have gotten the last problem if they only gave me 30 more seconds."

The stream of chatter continued all the way to the car and for half of the drive home. Gleek was happy. I had not subjected her to a traumatic experience, so I was happy too.

I don't know what the results of this test will be. I don't much care. Whether or not she gets into the program, this test represents a triumph. Gleek faced something she was scared to do and she conquered it. Next week I get to do it again for Patch at a different testing site. Gleek's excited chatter has him convinced that he does not want to miss out.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

First thoughts on Kindle

I am a second or third adopter. I have my Kindle because someone else gave it to me. This makes me demographically different from someone who really wants a Kindle in advance of receiving it. I'm glad to have it. I figured I would get one some day, but the truth is that I probably would never have gotten around to buying it for myself before someone gave me one. Facing the actually device and contemplating using it, my feelings toward it are oddly ambivalent. It is as if a part of my brain is afraid that once I become accustomed to reading on a Kindle I will love it and abandon paper books. I may have to change how I define my love of books. I'm not sure I want to do that, but I've heard really good things about reading on a Kindle.

Of the current electronic reading platforms, I was most attracted by the Kindle. I'm not sure why.

As with any new gadget there was a learning curve as I figured out how to adjust settings and to use it. There were some moments of frustration during this process. There are probably still some yet to come. The most persistent one is that my subconscious believes that the buttons on the right should page forward while the buttons on the left page back. Both sides have page forward and page back buttons, but it creates momentary confusion when I accidentally page forward when I meant to page backward. This is already fading as I retrain my brain.

The Kindle feels small in my hands. I kind of want a cover for it to give it more heft. I'm a little afraid that I'll break it somehow. One of my habitual reading times is while I am eating. I'm concerned about splatters and spills.

The page refresh is mildly distracting right now, but I suspect that I will learn to tune it out in the same way that I tune out the turning of a page.

The biggest ongoing resistance that I have to the device is that it is electronic. Somewhere deep in my brain, I expect to be able to check twitter or email. I keep staring at it, and being distracted from absorbed reading. I suspect this will fade as my brain learns what to expect from this device.

I have yet to buy a book for it. I'm testing the waters with free books. I find I have an aversion to spending money for an electronic book. In theory I know why e-book pricing is where it is. In theory I support those prices. But I'm resisting plunking down money for something I can't really touch. It is an interesting mental block this attachment to a physical object. I'll take the leap at some point. It is probable that the mental block has more to do with the spending of money than the purchasing of e-books.

I can visualize how this Kindle will be useful. There are books I want to read, but I don't want to have cluttering the house. I'm looking forward to taking it on trips loaded with books. I don't have any trips before August, so we'll see how my habits shake out between now and then.

It will be interesting to look back on this entry in a month to see how much my attitudes have changed.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Link turns over a new leaf

Last night I was down stairs discussing a chapter with Howard and the rest of our writing group when I heard clattering in the kitchen. Link was doing the dishes. Unasked. Link also made an exercise chart and proceeded to do exercises. Then he sat with our writer's group and participated in the conversation instead of disappearing into a video or video game. Today he kept to his schedule of exercise. He also encouraged the younger kids to eat their dinner and even cooked a pizza for them. He said "Mom. I like my new schedule. I've been happy ever since I started it."

The origin of this new and improved Link is not a mystery. He and I had a scolding conversation the day before where I pointed out to him the quantities of time that he has been spending glued to screens. Add to that the fact that he has begun his first junior high PE class. Also add that his scout troop has just begun working on the Personal Fitness merit badge. All of these circumstances appear to have clicked together in his head and he is newly ready to take charge of his life.

I know that the road ahead is not going to all be sunny and cheerful as today was. Link is going to have tired and grouchy days. He's going to forget (or not want) to keep to his schedule. This is okay. The fact that he made it and kept it for awhile means that the next time he does something similar he'll already have some practice. This is the same method I used to teach myself how to stay organized. It is also how I taught the kids housework.

Create a system with built in incentives and tracking.

Use it until it breaks down.

Build a new system based upon what I learned from the previous one.

Repeat as necessary.

Once I realized that the break down of a system is part of a process instead of a failure, I felt much better about my capabilities. Now I just need to figure out how to teach that to Link. In the meantime, I'll enjoy Link's new confidence and enthusiasm.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Gadgets

I was on the couch absorbing the sunshine streaming in our front window while also using my phone to check up on twitter. Howard came to the top of the stairs at my left and looked down at me. He stood there for a long moment, and when I looked up at him he had a half-puzzled, half-pouty look on his face.

"You have more gadgets than I do." He said.

My first thought was that this was patently ridiculous. Howard is definitely more tech oriented than I am. He always has been. He had a cell phone and a pager back before most people did. He upgraded to an iPhone before I did. His computer was always the good one and mine the hand-me-down. Except I just got a new computer. And I have a little netbook laptop that we bought for my writing. With the addition of the Kindle that my dad bought for my birthday, my personal gadget count exceeds the number of fingers on one hand. This is somewhat baffling to me. Why on earth would I need so many little electronic things? It hardly makes sense for me as a writer and mother. But they are so very useful for me as a business manager and publisher. Also I now have every gadget I can conceive of needing at this point in time. The next four gadgets our family buys will be for Howard and/or the kids, while I continue to use the ones I have until long after most people consider them obsolete. Thus will the natural balance of the household be restored.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Secret Global Cat Meeting

It was 10:30 pm and 26 degrees outside when our cat began lingering suggestively by the door. She wanted to go out. Which was odd, because sub-freezing temperatures usually send her fleeing the other direction. I let her out, but then I was stuck. If I went to bed, she would be outside in the cold all night. She'd survive. We have a heated pet bed for her. She's been outdoors in worse weather before she was officially ours. But now that she's ours, I didn't want to leave her out in the cold. So I waited, like a mother on prom night, for her to show up at the door.

As I waited, I happened to check twitter. John Scalzi had noted that both of his cats had just asked to go out despite the epic ice storm they're having in Ohio. I snickered to myself and replied with a joke about a secret global cat meeting. Our cat returned and I went to bed. In the morning several other friends tweeted that their cats had all wanted out too. So now I am wondering what was so important outside last night. Our cat isn't telling.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Anne of Green Gables and turning 10

Twelve girls sat in a circle on the floor of my family room. The carpet down there is green, which any girl with a good imagination can imagine into a lovely lawn for a spring-time picnic. The girls were decked out in dresses and eating dainty sized treats from plastic plates. It was Gleek's Anne of Green Gables birthday party, and everyone was participating fully in the spirit of the event. There was much discussion about being lady-like and What Things Were Really Like For Anne, as the girls ate gold fish crackers, PBJ sandwiches, mini fig newtons, and Kit Kat bars. It was the dainty afternoon-tea feel of the food that was important not true period-accuracy. Gleek sat among the girls, glowing with happiness.

"10 is like the perfect age." Gleek said to me one night as she was carefully tucking her blanket around the sides of the bed. Blanket tucking was an essential ritual before crawling under the blanket to go to sleep. "10 year olds can do big kid stuff and still play. It is kind of like the middle."

"That's why it's called tween, because it is between being a kid and a teenager." I said handing her a stuffed animal.

"Tween." Gleek said, savoring the sound of the word. "Being a tween is perfect. When I got to heaven, I want to be 10 forever." She tucked the stuffed animal carefully into place before sliding her legs underneath the comforter. "And I want wings."

After the Anne themed picnic, the girls gathered for a shadow play. The shadow puppet theater hid the two teenage girls from the sight of the twelve younger ones. These girls had never seen a shadow play before and they were fascinated by the way the shadows could move and seem life-like. There is no shadow play in Anne of Green Gables, but it feels right for the party. Similarly appropriate are the little paper fairy boxes that the guests construct out of printed paper and tape. The girls sang songs as they cut and taped. Twelve tweens singing in chorus is very charming.

I first introduced Gleek to Anne of Green Gables several years prior to the party. I felt the knowing Anee would be good for Gleek. She could see how an imaginative, impulsive, energetic, creative girl could grow from someone who was always in trouble into a person to be admired. Gleek listened to Anne's adventures nightly via an audio book. I think it helped. I know that Gleek came to love Anne.

"Happy birthday to you!" sang the girls. Gleek blew out the candles on her cupcake, and everyone cheered. Beside Gleek were the presents she had unwrapped a few minutes earlier. Craft supplies, art supplies, clothing, make-up, and jewelry. She received no toys, and did not even notice that she had not. The party wound to an end and the guests went home.

Gleek is 10, just one year younger than Anne at the beginning of the book. Her life will be quite different than Anne's in detail, but the themes will be strikingly similar. This is why Anne of Green Gables is still beloved generations after it was written. 10 is a threshold. Gleek has entered double digits. She is beginning to leave behind her toys and heading off to new interests. She is still small enough to scoop into my lap and snuggle, but big enough for ear rings and pop music. I have to agree with Gleek. 10 is pretty close to perfect and I've got 365 days to enjoy it until we're off into the adventure that 11 will be.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Real life Choose Your Own Adventure

15 year old Kiki was obviously crying when I picked her up from school. Her eyes and nose were red in a way that can only be achieved through extended sadness. I knew that she had stayed up late the night before to finish off three homework assignments, which was simultaneously responsible (yay she got her homework done) and frustrating (she spent the entire afternoon playing a video game.) I was not thrilled to see her crying. I was really tired of emotional drama. Kiki climbed in the car and handed me a sheet with her term grades, all Bs and Cs with one No Credit.

I could have:

A. Responded immediately and negatively to the grades which did not represent her highest capability, thus goading her in the guilt and inspiring her to do better.

B. Looked at the grades, acknowledged they are not what we had hoped, and asked her if anything else is wrong, thus catering to her obviously fragile emotional state.

C. Vented a frustrated rant about exactly how she earned each of these grades through various forms of procrastination and irresponsibility, while hoping that she'll get mad enough to prove me wrong.

Just like those old Choose Your Own Adventure books, even the "obviously right" choices could lead to dead ends, and each of the choices had the potential to backfire depending upon Kiki's response. Unlike the books, I did not have the luxury of carefully pondering or peeking ahead in the pages. I had seconds to pick a response. I chose B.

Kiki then told me that two of the three assignments that she had stressed over the night before had been the wrong assignments. Despite staying up until 1 am to finish, she only got half credit because she'd done the wrong list of math problems. The English assignment she still had to do over the weekend. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. This conversation featured a return of the familiar "School is too hard, I want it all to go away" refrain. I'd hoped that the new year had gotten us out of that useless emotional eddy. I asked a chain of questions to make sure I had the facts straight. Getting all the facts required me to turn the car around and go back to the school so that we could find out why Kiki was listed with No Credit in PE. I certainly did not want to repeat any part of what we have been through this year. A conversation with the attendance office solved that problem and we got back in the car to go home. Kiki said "I'm Sorry." in a very small voice.

I could have:

A. Delivered a lecture on the importance of keeping track of her assignments and when they are due, which emphasized that this is her job.

B. Praised her for the fact that she did buckle down the night before and get her work done, even if it happened to be the wrong work.

C. Ranted about how tired I am of helping with emotional crises over things which never need be crises in the first place.

D. Aired my worries about the fact that she seems to respond to pressure by crumpling. This has not always been the case, she is amazingly strong at times, but not about school work this year.

The car ride was just long enough for me to get through choice B and then choice A. We arrived at home, and I realized that somewhere in my words and Kiki's responses my primary emotion had shifted from frustration to sympathy. After that there was hugging and we sat together on the couch to really focus on the grade sheet. We were able to identify exactly where each grade had come from, which assignments had been the ones to lower the grade. We could see that she got exactly the grades she earned.

I hugged her close and told her "I'm sorry this year has been so hard." And at that moment I felt the truth of my statement. This year really has been hard for Kiki. It does not matter whether I think it should have been hard, or what little things she has done to make things harder for herself. It has been hard on her and therefore hard on me. But, and this is important, that does not mean it has been a bad year. At the beginning of the school year, when we shuffled her schedule around, this set of classes felt like the right choice for her. I reminded her of that and she nodded. Then she told me how one of her friends sat with her and talked through her sadness. He listened to her and opened up about some things in his life as well. They had a really good conversation and Kiki shared it with me. When the tears were dried up and the snuggles were over, Kiki said to me "This has been a really hard day, but I think it was a good one."

From the moment Kiki climbed in the car, our afternoon was surrounded by a cloud of possibilities. I made choice after choice, like the branching decision trees in those books. This time we found our way to a happy result. That is not always the case between Kiki and I. Many discussions have ended with anger and slamming doors. I don't think this was the only possible happy result, but I'll keep it.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Middles

Today I am 38 years old. Twenty years ago I was in my last semester of high school and had my whole life ahead of me. Twenty years from now I will know for sure that more of my life is behind me than ahead. Right now I am somewhere in the middle. I am comfortable with middles. I am the middlemost of 7 children. I live in a geographical nexus point so that most of my relatives stop by as they are passing through. I'm probably about half way between the birth of my oldest and the departure of my youngest. US culture would have us believe that middle age is to be dreaded. It is when people are supposed to have a crisis of identity. I feel I know who I am and who I want to be, and I'm tired of crisis right now. I haven't the energy for it. So I think I'll keep going along and knowing that the middle is actually a good place to be.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.